Bend Test
by cmr2014
Summary: Vash and Meryl have gone through a lot, but what they're facing will make them or break them.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Bend Test**

In the prison he was in, Knives plotted.

Technically, it wasn't a prison. Just a basement. Vash said he would rather Knives be with him and the two women in the main part of the house, but until Knives proved he could be trusted, it just wasn't possible.

He was down here, with no choice of whether he could leave. A thin mattress. Pillow and blanket. That was it. Everything else had been stripped out. Even his range of motion was limited – he was shackled and chained to the concrete floor, leashed like a dangerous animal.

Seemed like a prison to him.

Like a prisoner, he fought his own war against those holding him.

Oh, sure. His brother wanted to "save" him.

Liar. Worthless, traitorous liar. Vash didn't want to save him, he wanted to _break_ him. That's what all of this was really about. All these "therapy sessions". All these arguments Vash presented about the value of life and the good humans were capable of.

His brother was doing nothing more than trying to brainwash him. Make him into a good little boy like Vash. There was no real concern there for Knives, he just wanted to prove his own point of view right.

Wanted to cover up his own weakness. Stupid, scared little boy. If he had had any real strength at all, he would have dropped balls and put Knives down a long time ago. You don't let the enemy live. That was just the natural order, and it was right. As was Knives' divine will to power. Eventually, he would win.

In the meantime, he trained. Studied the enemy from the books that were the only luxury allowed him by Warden Vash. He particularly identified with the Norse tales he found, tales of a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. He quite respected the characters in them, Odin in particular. Thor was ok, though he detested the way the god protected the humans, even married one. The responsibility of a god is to rule, not protect. He laughed when Loki hid in the form of a horse and was impregnated.

He engaged in physical training each night, pushing as hard as he could to build his body back up from the damage Vash had inflicted on him. Just because Knives couldn't use the Angel Arm anymore didn't mean he couldn't fight.

Over time, his strength returned, until he was able to support his bodyweight in the supreme test of strength and balance that was a handstand pushup done on the index fingers. There was nothing round enough to use as a pullup bar, but he improvised by grabbing the thick central beam overhead for time. His grip eventually became strong enough that he was able to use the beam to do his pullups.

In a piece of polished metal he had managed to steal while being moved down here, Knives was able to see an adequate reflection of himself. He watched his reflection as his body returned to form. Comparing himself to the descriptions in the books, he was aware he looked like a Norse god of old.

Women threw themselves at those gods. Even in other cultures, women lusted after their good-looking deities. Just look at Io and Zeus. The fairy gancanagh. Even in early Biblical history, there were reports of women having intercourse with angels. Examples abound.

This line of thought set the gears grinding in his head. What was most valuable to Vash? His woman.

What did human women seem susceptible to, according to the books? The aesthetics of a deity-like body.

He didn't need to read to know Vash would be heartbroken if his precious wife were to betray him.

The stumbling block was that the woman was as devoted to Vash as he was to her. But stumbling blocks are meant to be gotten around.

His telepathic power was far weaker than at his prime, but it was still there. He worked with it as he did his body, though far more cautiously. If Vash knew the progress he was making, steps would be taken. Prisoners do not fight their captors by waving their weapons in plain sight before using them.

He exercised his power slowly, judiciously, and progress was far slower than his physical training. But he was certain he could exert his will over one person in close range.

As Knives planned, he grinned viciously. He would force the woman to be his against her will, conscious of everything her body did by his command and powerless to stop it. Conscious of the desire he planted in her head and powerless to not feel it.

She would be forced to betray her husband, and forced to enjoy it. Finally, he would get to see that wench brought low to her proper place, and see his brother's heart dsintegrate.

A double-whammy of delicious suffering that would allow Knives his opportunity to finish them both and seize his freedom.

Glorious!


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

"_HELL NO!"_

Vash slammed the door. Stomped off.

Meryl opened the door. Took in the two suits standing there. Office types – of what variety? Bankers? Investigators? Salesmen, even? "Good afternoon, gentlemen. May I ask what this is concerning?"

"We are here on official business on behalf of the town of Daleygrad. It is imperative we speak to Vash the Stampede." One of them gave her a card.

Lawyers. She fought a gag reflex. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but you have wasted a trip. There is no Vash the Stampede at this residence."

"Begging your pardon, madam, but we are correct."

Meryl directed a frosty look at the one who spoke. "Please do not presume to tell me whether you are correct. I clearly stated there is no Vash the Stampede at this residence. Look elsewhere."

The other one cleared his throat. "I apologize for our presumption, but you _are _ Mrs. Meryl Stampede, are you not?"

_Damn!_ She had _told_ Vash, aka Ericks, that Stampede would make a lousy cover name. Now they would have to consider moving soon; if men with business cards could find them, so could men with guns.

Sigh. "What is it you want?"

The long and short of it was the town of Daleygrad had been overrun by an organized gang of bandits – apparently, "army" would be a better word – with no plans to leave. It was decided that the unique skills of Vash the Stampede were needed for this problem.

Meryl clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping when she heard how much the town was willing to pay. Visions of a new start with solid covers danced in front of her eyes.

"I see. Well, I will ask around to see if anyone knows where Vash the Stampede may be. If I find him, I will relay your message and be in touch. Good day." She closed the door in their faces as they started to reply.

Went to the kitchen, then searched for Vash. Found him out back, sitting in a deck chair with a scowl. Sat down next to him, enjoying the small breeze and the tarp shade they had over the chairs. It was miserable to just sit outside in the heat without shade and a cold drink.

"It's a lot of money," she pointed out, handing him a beer.

He popped the tab and took a drink before replying. "I'm not doing it."

Meryl popped the tab on her own tonic water. She had found exactly one brand of beer she preferred, but it was made by monks far away who only put out a batch a year. She had six bottles of it left, and was not about to use it casually.

Laid a hand over his. "We could use the money; sometimes there's enough coming in to break even, sometimes not. The cashbox is a little lower every time. And it's the kind of money that could buy us a fresh start someplace else."

"I'm not doing it, Meryl."

Her hand squeezed his. "Are you that bothered at the thought of being the Humanoid Typhoon again?"

Vash scooted his chair around so he was facing Meryl. "It's not that part of it that bothers me. It's the thought of you being alone with _him_."

She cocked her head. "Alone with – what, you mean Knives?" Her husband nodded. "Why in God's name would you worry about me being around that prick? You took care of the danger, remember?"

Vash set his beer down. Did the same for her tonic water. Took both her hands in his.

"I took care of the threat to the human race, Meryl. But don't for a second think he's not dangerous. He's more dangerous than I am. He has no rules except win."

Meryl leaned forward and kissed him. "He's not more anything than you are. Not even more dangerous. You're the most dangerous – protectors always are."

Vash looked down. "I'm a lousy protector. I couldn't protect Rem. I couldn't protect the SEEDS people. I couldn't protect July. Anywhere Knives is involved, I have failed. I'm not going to risk that with you."

Anger flashed in her eyes as she slapped him. "Don't you _ever_ hold yourself responsible for July! We both know who is responsible. In all the time I've known you, even before we met, you've been hunted relentlessly and put through continuous suffering for a species that despises you because of what they think happened. Knives did that. He literally forced you to act against your will, and let you take all the blame."

Meryl latched herself onto him, holding tight. "I hate him for all the pain he's caused you," she whispered. "I _hate_ him, but I will never be afraid of him."

Vash removed her arms from around him. "That's only because you've never actually seen what he can do up close. I have, and when they made their pitch, all I could see was losing you because I was off making sure the bills got paid. Not happening."

Something clicked inside Meryl. "You don't trust me."

"What?"

She frowned. "You don't trust me, do you? You don't think I could handle it if he tried something. That's it, isn't it?"

"Meryl, I –"

"Don't you 'Meryl' me!" She pushed herself off so she was standing over him. "How many times have I helped you? How many times have I stood by you? And now, even with Milly for backup, you think I'm weak or incompetent or whatever the hell word is in your head and would allow myself to get taken out by a guy in chains? Oh, hell no!

"We need money, you're taking the job, and I can damn well handle myself! I need you in my life, Vash, but I most certainly do _not_ need your protection, you arrogant, presumptuous, feather-brained, imbecilic – you, you – you _broom-head_!"

She bent down and picked up the drinks to go back inside. "And I'm taking the beer!"

It was the start of their worst argument. They had argued before about plenty of things – they had a passionate love, and sometimes flying sparks can create explosions instead of fireworks – but this was the worst, because it was the first one in their marriage that was over something important.

Meryl had quit her job with Bernardelli to build a life with Vash and her best friend. Milly Thompson absolutely had to be in the picture, because she also had quit. Meryl felt responsible for Milly's following her lead, even though her friend was leaning toward quitting anyway – Wolfwood's parting gift to her had been a daughter. She and Vash had offered Milly and her daughter Nicole a continued place in their lives, borderline begging them to stay; despite the presence of Knives, Milly had gratefully accepted their help.

Did Meryl regret quitting? Not a chance; she would always choose Vash over the job any day. But the money had been going down ever since, her bar-waitressing and Milly's construction work only sometimes keeping up with the bills. Pile on top of that the fact that making a life with Vash the Stampede was fraught with the risk of being found by the law or, worse, ruthless bounty hunters who would think nothing of using loved ones against him – taking care of Knives, always mindful of the rules regarding him – and trying to help raise Nicole, who for practical purposes was just another mouth to feed – they were under ever-increasing stress, and it was starting to show.

And now Vash wanted to turn down something that could save their meager existence, just because he thought she couldn't break her foot off in Knives' ass if need be.

In the name of revenge, she drank the beer she had brought him, wondering if in his chauvinistic head he privately thought of her as The Little Lady.

The argument continued in fits and starts over several days. Meryl was extremely upset at just the possibility that her husband thought her someone who couldn't handle herself – hadn't she spent her whole life proving that theory wrong? – and Vash, for his part, knew, just damn well _knew_ Knives would try something if he took the job. He didn't see Meryl as weak; but she was right that he _did_ want to protect her.

Knives had taken so much already. Damned if his brother would take Meryl from him, too. He was not going to lose the woman he came back for. Not the one woman who, knowing everything, still ran toward him instead of away.

The woman who was _still_ – job or no job – his insurance girl.

It was unpredictable when the argument would assert itself in their lives.

They went to the library, leaving Milly and her fearsome stun gun to keep watch. Knives wasn't going anyplace, but one of them was always around.

"Let me get that book for you, it's up sort of high."

"I can get it myself, Vash."

"I'm just trying to help you!"

"I don't need you for every little thing! Take your hand off my book!"

"Here it is! You're welcome!"

"Now I don't want it! I could have gotten it myself, now you've just cheapened it!"

The librarian came up. "This is a library; please keep your voices down!"

"_STAY OUT OF IT!"_ they thundered in unison.

Grocery shopping.

"Meryl, why are you taking my beer out of the cart?"

"Because it's too expensive. Learn to drink water."

"But I don't want water, I want beer!"

"Tough. We don't have the money for it."

"Fine, then. I guess I'll just take out your wine."

"You will not! How the hell do you think I survive being around lousy-tipping jerks every shift?" She grabbed the bottle back.

"If we can afford your wine, we can afford my beer." He put the case back in the cart.

"We're not getting your stupid beer!"

"Then we're not getting your stupid wine!"

The clerk interrupted. "Excuse me, but you two are holding up the line and –"

"_STAY OUT OF IT!"_ they roared together.

Even keeping the ready-to-die motorcycle, the only transportation they could afford, up and running was not immune to the rolling argument.

"I think it's the acceleration cable."

"Are you sure? I was thinking it might be the spark plugs are bad."

"Of course I'm sure, Vash! Contrary to popular belief, I _can_ handle myself!"

"But right in line with popular belief, you can be pretty damn bitchy!"

"You shouldn't insult someone who's holding a heavy wrench!"

The front door opened, presenting Milly. "Um…guys, do you think you could maybe just not fight like –"

"_STAY OUT OF IT!"_

"Eek!" Milly shrieked and ran back inside.

Several nights later, they were getting ready for bed. He came out of the shower, dressed in fresh boxers and not completely dry yet. Went over to where Meryl was brushing her hair and started to massage her shoulders.

She enjoyed it, up until she felt the water droplets hit her. "You're dripping on me."

That was all it took. He took his hands off her shoulders. "Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to do something nice!"

Meryl whirled on him. "If you want to do something nice, next time put the shampoo down where I can reach it!"

"You'd be able to reach it if you just stretched a bit. It's not my fault you're so damn short!"

"The problem isn't that I'm short; you're too damn tall! Quit hogging all the height!"

"When you quit heating everything up while we're asleep; you're like a damn furnace, you put out so much heat!" He poked his finger in her face, and she instinctively grabbed and twisted.

"OW!" He wrenched his hurt finger out of her grasp. Swore. _"Goddamnit, Meryl –"_ His fist came up…

He stopped short when he saw her flinch. Anger became horror as he realized what he had been about to do.

"Shit." His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her to sit on the bed, resting his head against hers. "I'm so sorry, Meryl." Rocked her tenderly. "Forgive me."

She looked in his eyes. Tears were rolling as her chin trembled. "All we do anymore is fight. What's happening to us, Vash?"

He stroked her cheek lightly, so very lightly. Almost afraid to touch her, after what had nearly happened.

"I wish I knew. But…just…" He interlaced his fingers with hers, locking their hands together, making extra sure to be gentle. "Please forgive me. I would never hurt you."

"Not on purpose." Her soft-spoken words cut him deep; he had surrendered control to his anger and come so close to doing what couldn't be taken back.

"But you are forgiven, darling. I've had the safety off for a while, and not just because of the stupid Daleygrad thing. I think that was just a trigger for…" She searched for the right words.

"Everything else," Vash put in. "I haven't felt right, either."

Meryl looked at him in surprise.

"I haven't," he confessed. "Not for a long time. I put you in the bad situation of not having me without also having Knives. I do what I have no right to do and ask for your help with him. I spend my time trying to convince him his way isn't right, while also unable to have any trust in him, so I'm busy playing both concerned brother and warden, when I should be out finding ways to help you and Milly keep us all from starving.

"I don't just love you, Meryl, I look up to you. You're incredibly strong, leaving your entire career and then working to carry us on your paycheck, just so I can focus on Knives. You would have been well within your rights to tell me to go to hell. Sometimes I feel so damn guilty, because you deserve better than me."

Her hands suddenly tightened around his. "Don't say that. There _is_ no better than you, Vash. And I may be the luckiest woman ever, because you came back to _me_. I get lost in the details sometimes, that's all. I can lose sight of what's really important."

"Staying alive is important, too," he said. "Living under the radar like this is so hard, it's damn near impossible. If it wasn't this Daleygrad shit, I think it would be something else. We've been under too much pressure for too long; it was bound to blow up on us."

"But what do we do about it? I hate the way we've been at each other's throats. I'm starting to be scared I could lose you over some stupid argument."

Vash unlocked her hands and pulled her into his arms. Meryl nestled into his embrace, enjoying the feel of what she had last felt too damn long ago. He buried his face in her neck, feeling her soft skin and letting his fingers tangle in her hair.

"We hang on to each other, and don't let go. I'm yours, insurance girl. We stand together, and there is nothing that will ever take me away from you. No argument, no fight, no town, damn sure no Knives. Hang on to me, Meryl, and you'll never lose me." The last sentence was part vow, part plea.

She kissed him. Softly, almost tentatively. Was encouraged when he kissed back. That little kiss, much like a wildfire, grew into something many times beyond itself. They held on to each other for dear life.

At one point, so caught in rapture she was barely able to breathe, she gasped out, "I love you!" That was all she had the air for, as the world dissolved into nothing but Vash.

It was enough for him. Just as it was enough for her when the only thought he could pluck from ecstasy to whisper in her ear was the one word that meant everything to him: "Meryl."


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Lyrics from "Falling in Love with You Again", by Imelda May

It had taken a lot of talking and a lot of loving over the past eight days, but they had proved their marriage could bend and not break. They were back on the same page.

Something good was happening between them, Meryl could feel it. She just couldn't put her finger on what it was. All she could say was she felt a lot better than she had for a long while, since a ways before the rolling argument had even started.

She realized what was happening one night, when she was worrying over the budget. Milly was in the kitchen, making ice cream with Nicole.

A portable player set down on the table in front of her, knocking bills and calculations to the floor. Vash's hand took hers and pulled her to her feet.

"Vash, what the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "I was trying to –"

He shushed her with a finger over her mouth. Let it linger a moment longer, tracing her lips, before kissing her lightly. Such a tender kiss, yet it sped up her heart and left her wanting more.

He pushed PLAY. Began to move her around the floor as a feminine voice began singing.

"Falling in love with you again,

Yeah I'm falling in love with you again…"

Bills were forgotten. Money was forgotten. Everything was forgotten as she danced with Vash to this wonderful song that told her what was happening with them.

Vash placed a hand on her heart as they moved, mouthing the lyrics.

"You're my lover, my best friend

But I can't believe what's happening

'Cause I'm falling in love with you

Again…"

Meryl couldn't stand just dancing with the man she was falling in love with all over again. She grabbed his collar and pulled him down for another kiss, a more urgent, much longer one.

They danced together long after the song ended.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

He was taking the job. To put food on the table, and because he trusted her. "I know you don't _need_ protecting," he had said. "I just _want_ to protect you, because you're mine. And as you're mine, so am I yours." She felt like preening when he put it that way.

Now they were saying goodbye before he left. "All right. I've told you everything I can think of that you need to watch out for. You're as ready to deal solo with him as I can make you."

Meryl kissed her husband on the cheek. "I won't be flying completely solo. If worse comes to worst, I'll have Milly on my side. No one's worse to mess with than a mom."

Vash grinned. "We'll have to try that theory out on you someday." She looked down, blushing at his implication.

"Incidentally…" He went to the closet and took down a small, polished wooden case. Presented it to his wife. "For you."

Meryl admired the design of the case for several moments, then opened it. Squealed with delight. "For me? All mine? You mean it?"

Vash nodded. "A little added protection against Knives. Just in case."

"But what about the rules?"

"Sometimes you have to break the letter of the law to observe the spirit of the law."

Meryl set the case down and removed the twin .41-caliber over-and-under derringers. Gasped. "The balance is perfect! "

She checked to verify they were unloaded, then tried several practice draws. Standing. Kneeling. One at a time. Simultaneously. Vash just grinned and watched her be as happy as a kid with a new toy.

"I thought about getting you twin quads, but –"

"But four barrels would outline too easy," Meryl finished for him. "These were the right choice." Pleasant thoughts of the damage she could do with these flitted through her head as she reverently placed the derringers back in their case and closed it.

They went outside, where the lawyers from before were waiting with a car. She hugged Vash tight. "Promise me you'll come back."

He tousled her hair. "No worry. Promise me you'll be safe when I get back."

She winked at him. "No worry. I have two new friends to help." Eyed the badge pinned to his shirt. "What's with the sheriff's badge?"

Jerk of his thumb. "A gift from our lawyer friends. So I have full authority to do what I do. Sheriffs get to fuck shit up."

Meryl laughed. "My eloquent gunman."

They shared a long goodbye kiss. And then another long goodbye kiss. And then he was gone.

Meryl watched the car drive away. Watched the dust when the car couldn't be seen anymore. Watched the horizon when the dust disappeared.

Her waiting for him to come back had begun.

She thought of Knives.

While Vash was gone, Nicole would be staying with neighbors. That was Milly's one condition before she would sign off on this. Milly would take over Vash's therapy sessions with Knives; Meryl would handle the logistical drudgery.

Vash had thoroughly briefed her. _"Watch out for any unusual thoughts you have while with him; he can get inside your head. He thinks I don't, but I know he's been trying to redevelop what he lost along with his Angel Arm. Just not how far he's gotten with it. So keep a feel out for him trying to get inside."_

She thought of the new derringers Vash had instructed her to keep on her person when dealing with Knives, breaking the rule of no firearms around him. If he tried to hurt her, four .41 shots would discourage even him.

She had the derringers. She knew the rules. Knew what she was up against.

Their marriage has passed its test. Now it was her turn to pass her own test. She would make Vash proud of her.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For the record, fictional though she is, I fully respect Meryl Stryfe's right as a consenting adult to engage in intercourse, intimacy, or any other behavior with any other consenting adult, even one Millions Knives. I also fully respect her right to wipe the floor with anyone who tries to force his or her will upon her being without consent. Kick his ass, Meryl!

Even with Milly for company, Meryl missed Vash terribly. It was rough the first time, when he had gone off to face Knives. She had not known if she would see him again.

But it was even rougher this time around. Now she knew what she was missing. Everything seemed bigger, emptier, without him around. She missed the sound of his laugh. Missed holding him while they slept. Missed his silly antics.

Just plain missed her lovable, dangerous broom-head.

She was even grateful for the responsibility over Knives. It gave her something to do, kept her busy. Better than just waiting.

It felt good to have a job that she could prove herself in. She wanted to make Vash proud of her, wanted to prove him right to trust her. Her entire life had been spent earning what she had, and what he thought of her mattered more than anything else. He had chosen _her_, and she felt driven to earn it.

Vash had developed a very strict set of rules for dealing with Knives. No firearms around him, for one – a rule he was allowing her to break for her added safety. Never get inside his range of movement. Make sure anything given him was returned intact. The rules all boiled down to one simple thing – take no chances.

And Vash wanted the best for his brother. Meryl, who wouldn't mind walking in one day to find Knives had somehow died overnight from a fungal worm consuming his brain – or a heart attack, or suddenly sneezed his lungs out, or 27 ninjas snuck in and assassinated him, she wasn't picky – took it so far as to actually have Knives stand at his maximum range of movement while she inspected the shackles for tamper marks.

Knives laughed once when she mentioned the possibility of body cavity searches. Shut up when he saw she was actually considering it. Scowled and inwardly contemplated how much fun he was going to have destroying her marriage to Vash.

Her job was basically to make sure he dressed every day, was fed, monitor his health, that sort of thing. The basement had a water drain – the original owner had had a small machine shop down here, and put in the drain so he didn't have to take the water tanks and coolant reservoirs upstairs to be emptied out – and so every day, a large barrel had to be wrestled down here, filled with water from the kitchen, left for him to use for bathing; then the water dumped out when he was done, the barrel inspected like everything else for tampering or missing pieces, and the damn thing hauled back upstairs. Just so they didn't have to let him out of his confinements. What a pain in the ass.

Knives, not the barrel.

It wasn't easy doing all this and still working. She was glad for the money from Vash's – what was it, anyway? Task? Chore? Assignment? What did you call being hired to clean out a town's bad men? Contract, that would do. – contract, but she wasn't about to trust lawyers until the money was here, and maybe not even then.

On one night in particular, Meryl had to be to work in a few hours. Milly had gone to the neighbors' house to tuck Nicole in for the night, and so Meryl was stuck by herself with the giant pain in the ass. She wished he'd hurry up and finish the damn bath and get dressed so she could drain the barrel and bring it up here. That thing was heavy, and she would like to relax a bit before work.

"Meryl!" came the call from downstairs.

The time she had been in charge had proven he was capable of calling her more than just "Short Woman". But if he thought showing her basic respect by using her name was going to get her to ease up on how seriously she took the rules, he had another thing coming. She was still giving the idea of body cavity searches serious consideration. How else could she be certain he didn't have a lockpick hidden where he thought no one would look?

She gave a longing look at her ginger tea, then went to check what he wanted. Felt the reassuring weight of the derringers in her pockets. He didn't know she had them, nor did she intend for him to until the time came to use them.

Opened the basement door. "What do you want now?"

"One of the lights went out!"

Crap. There were two lights in the basement, each one illuminating half. One out meant half the basement was dark, a prime opportunity for Knives.

"Hang on!" Meryl took a few steps down the stairs to assess the situation. The light on the side close to the stairs was on. That meant it was the other light that was out. The one on the far side of the basement, close to Knives.

Shit.

The proper procedure would be to wait for Milly to get back and be covered by the stun gun as she changed the light bulb. But it was getting closer and closer to time to leave for work.

She could just leave things the way they were and leave Milly a note, but who could say Milly would find the note? She could venture down there not knowing what awaited her, be jumped from out of the darkness.

It was a chance Meryl wasn't willing to take. She would just have to change the light. That was the most practical course of action if she wanted to avoid being late and thus docked, and still keep Milly safe.

She grabbed a bulb from where they kept such things, also taking a flashlight, and ventured down into the basement.

"Are you dressed?" she called.

"Yes," came Knives' voice from the darkness.

"Stand in the corner. Don't move from that spot." She heard the chains rattle as he obeyed. "You stay still or I'll kick your ass, understand me? I'm not your brother; you'll get no slaps on the wrist from me, just my foot up your ass!"

"Understood, Meryl."

The way he said her name gave her chills. She ignored the feeling and hit the flashlight, moving in to where the light fixture was.

The flashlight was suddenly knocked from her hand. Smacked on the floor and went out with an audible pop. She felt herself shoved back against the wall, a hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her own hand down to touch something. What the hell? That felt like – _EW!_

The light came on as it was screwed back in. "Well, look at that," Knives said. "Must have just been loose."

She didn't know which was worse, his leer – or that he was completely naked, with her hand on his – God, she couldn't even _think_ it.

He suddenly seemed bigger than Vash. More – more _presence_, no signs of ever having been injured except for scarring. The man before her was powerfully built – tall, muscular, lean to the point of ripped. Strong jaw. His scars were light, nowhere near as severe as Vash's. No wonder Knives saw himself as a god, most people would think he had the body of one. If she had been anyone but her, she might have thrown herself at him.

Meryl tried to move away, but he had both arms on either side of her and was pressed up against her, boxing her in.

Was it coming time to use the derringers?

Not yet. She would look for other options. Find another way, without killing. She would make Vash proud of her.

He made her hand touch_ it_ again, wrapping her hand around. "Doesn't that feel better?"

She fought a gag. Wasn't about to let him see he had any influence on her at all.

"What do you want from me?"

"What does any man want when he's with a woman?" he asked. "It's quite simple. I've fallen in love with you, Meryl Stryfe, and tonight our sexual congress will commence. You will feel pleasure like you have never known with my brother, this I command!"

That couldn't possibly be a come-on. He sounded like he was reading from an instruction manual.

He started describing what would happen. As he spoke, she felt a buzzing in her head, like she had had too much to drink.

_She had to admit, looking at him, it was sounding pretty good. He _was_ very attractive, and she wouldn't mind a night with him. Several nights with him. Images flashed in her head of the things they would do. She could almost feel the pleasure of him being inside her. It would be _so_ much better to be with a sexual god than that hideous, scarred creature Vash – _

"I don't think so!" She bent slightly and sprung up from the very bottom of her feet, through her legs, channeling kinetic force through her entire body to the top of her head, slamming it home under Knives' jaw in a ferocious head-butt. He was knocked backwards. She took advantage to try to escape his range of motion, but wasn't quick enough. With a savage roar, his fist lashed out and caught her a blow on the eye.

Meryl stumbled back and fell. Started to scurry away, but he was much quicker than she gave him credit for. Grabbed a leg and pulled her in. She kicked and struggled, but he kept pulling, reeling her in with a sadistic look on his face. She knew she was in trouble.

One booted foot caught his wrist. He hissed in pain and kicked her in the stomach, driving air out of her.

"How dare you defy me!" he snarled. "How is it even _possible_ for you to resist my power? Look at my flawless body! How could you choose _him_ over _me_? How could _anyone_ choose a simpering traitorous whelp with a hideous body such as that? I am the rightful, flawless, perfect god of this planet, you should all _bow_ before your God Knives!"

He stomped on her flailing hand as he spoke. If he'd had shoes or boots on, he might have broken something; at worst now, it was sprained, at best it just hurt like hell.

Meryl prayed for Vash to come running in, the fire of hell in his eyes as he defended his wife. Then remembered, she was here of her own choosing. She had _demanded_ to be here.

This was her job. She had to see it through, had to fend for herself. If she wanted to earn Vash's respect and love, she could not allow herself to be broken. She had to finish this on her own.

His foot came down on her face over and over. Again, without footwear there was no permanent harm done, but his stomps were going to leave some bad bruises. At least stomps weren't as forceful as actual kicks would have been.

Meryl fought through the pain. Her life had not been as brutal as Vash's, but it had been tough enough that she knew both how to fight, and how to live with pain. She grabbed his foot and bit down on his ankle. The metallic taste of blood entered her mouth as she broke the skin.

Knives howled in animalistic rage and tore his leg away. Meryl spat out his blood and glared at him from the floor, waiting for a free opportunity to open some space between them.

"If you won't serve me in submission, you will serve me in death!" He limped toward her.

Meryl saw her chance and took it. Bridged upward, using that to add power to her kick as she drove the sole of her boot right into Knives' balls. Even someone used to pain would have a hard time dealing with a kick that hard - Knives didn't stand a chance. He sank down to his knees, face contorted, hands covering what might or might not be a crushed testicle. Hopefully two.

She focused her weight on one leg and pivoted her hips, twisting from the bridge and whipping her other leg into the side of his head. He collapsed to the ground, conscious but dazed.

Panting from her own pain, Meryl unsteadily got to her feet and retreated to the safety zone by the stairs, beyond his reach.

"This is not over, you worthless collection of carbon and chemicals," Knives ground out.

"Better that than a punkass bitch," she spat.

Should have kept her mouth shut and left. Knives had enough in him to still be plenty dangerous. Hurt though he was, he launched himself at her from the ground with a primal scream. For a split second, she thought she was saved by the chains.

Then, with one giant flex, he broke them. Flew for her, teeth bared like he intended to rip her throat out.

Adrenalized instinct took over. She whipped out the derringers and fired, four shots coming so fast they almost sounded like one. They hit virtually at the same time, blood spattering her form their impact. The force of four .41 bullets was enough to send him flying back, crumpling by his bed.

Meryl looked in shock at the derringers in her hands. How had she even been able to draw?

Pain flooded back into her injured hand, and she dropped the derringer as it seized open. Ask a silly question…

She looked over at Knives. The four shots had hit in almost the same spots he'd been disabled before. Nothing vital, just disabling shots. He wasn't even in real danger of bleeding out. Yet she hadn't even been aiming.

The only person she had ever seen be that good was Vash.

Nah. No way could she have channeled her husband. No way he had sensed her danger and somehow lent his preternatural skill to her. Wasn't possible. Had to be just dumb luck.

She thanked God anyway that Vash was in her life, as she ascended the stairs for the first aid kit to patch up Knives. And she had to call in. She was – ironically, considering how this started – going to miss work tonight, because she had a job to do right here.

Bastard may have bent her, but like her marriage to Vash, she was not broken.

As she went upstairs, Knives weakly demanded to know how she had resisted his power.

She knew, but would never tell him.

He could never control her, because she only had room in her mind and her heart for Vash.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Lyrics from "Meet You at the Moon", by Imelda May

"So then he says, 'tonight our sexual congress will commence,' like he's reading from a mating textbook or something." Meryl swigged her special monk beer with her good hand. She had earned a bottle. Or two. Or all six, if she wanted. She was flying high because she had fought Knives and won – survived, actually, but she counted it as a win – and also, was on a tankload of painkillers.

"Weren't you afraid, Meryl?" Milly had returned to find Meryl just finishing patching up Knives. Pitched in by emptying the water barrel and carrying it upstairs, along with the broken flashlight. Knives was wounded, but Meryl had already found out what could happen when chances were taken.

As they left him down there, covered with his blanket and bitching because his own painkillers were fading, Meryl was in no mood to care. She had thrown a bottle of aspirin at him.

Then thrown her bloodied clothes away to be burned, and taken a long, hot shower to scrub away the filth of the incident. Clung to thoughts of how proud of her Vash would be, so she didn't have to think about what had happened.

"Derringer Meryl, afraid?" she crowed. "Hell no! I told that miserable son of a bitch I'd kick his ass, and that's just what I did!"

Milly shook her head. "Even doped up, I can still tell when you're lying."

Meryl's cheeks tinged pink. "Ok, fine," she admitted. "I was scared witless. But look, I fought him and won. Vash will be proud of me!"

Milly dropped her head and sighed. "It's times like this I miss Nick the most."

Meryl blinked. "Nick? Wolfwood? Why on earth would you say that?"

Her friend met her eyes steadily again. "Because he would knock some sense into you both! When are you two going to stop dancing around each other?"

Meryl flashed back to the night they danced, when she realized she had fallen in love with Vash all over again. Smiled dreamily. "Hopefully never."

Milly made an agitated noise. "Will you be serious, Meryl? You and Mr. Vash are always trying to prove yourselves worthy of each other. All you have to do is look in his eyes when he looks at you, and you'd see how proud he is of you. You do all the work here, you pay the bills, you're really the one who carries all of us, and you don't lord it over anyone, either. You just do it because it has to be done. Who _wouldn't_ be proud of you?"

"Milly…"

"Shut up, Meryl! You risked your life just to unnecessarily prove yourself. You need to hear this.

"Your husband loves you, and he's bursting with pride in you, but you don't see it, any more than he sees how proud you are of him. Don't you notice the way he always works out where you can see him?"

"Yeah." She went dreamy again picturing it.

Milly snapped her fingers in front of Meryl's face. "Hey! Pay attention! He does that because he's showing off for you. Most of the stupid stuff he does that you roll your eyes at is to impress you. Just like you keep trying to impress him. "Oh, I'm big girl Meryl, everything I have I've earned by proving I deserve it, even Vash's love.' I don't know what's worse, you two fighting or trying to show off for each other.

"Stop trying to earn everything! Stop trying to prove yourself! The both of you need to just cut it out and love each other, because you're driving me crazy!"

Uncharacteristic yet truth-filled tirade over, Milly stomped off. Meryl stood at the counter, stunned, wondering at her friend's forcefulness and truth. She didn't even notice Milly had taken one of her special beers.

Everything was supposed to have been sorted out between her and Vash. They had put a lot of work into getting things back on track. He was right – she would hang on tight to her husband. He was far too important to let go of.

But anything worth having was worth earning, right? So didn't she have to earn Vash, the way she had had to earn everything else? Didn't she have to measure up to the example he set?

"_Pride is earned. Respect is earned. This world gives you nothing for free. Earn it, girl." _Her father's words echoed in her ears. She had no idea how _not_ to earn something.

She grabbed another beer. So what if she might burn through them all tonight? Again, she had earned them. And maybe if she drank enough, she could kill the shakes she had hidden from Milly.

Derringer Meryl didn't get afraid. Derringer Meryl didn't get the post-trauma shakes. Derringer Meryl was completely worthy of Vash the Stampede.

Derringer Meryl was a myth.

She hit the radio and went outside, the soft sounds drifting through the kitchen window. The breeze was dry and warm, scattering dust here and there. Stepped out from under the awning and stood in the moonlight. Finished her beer with a long swallow. Tossed the bottle and cracked the new one.

"We're looking at the same moon

Though we're miles apart

We're wishing on the same star

When you're deep in my heart…"

She couldn't look at the night sky without some part of her thinking of Jeneora Rock. Everything that had happened then and since.

Vash had been through so much, and he just took it and kept taking it. Such a magnificent man, her broom-head, to bear up under that kind of strain. All she wanted was to be worthy of him. She didn't have her insurance job anymore. She had him.

Her life had been spent fighting for acceptance in a man's world. She earned everything. Milly's words made no sense.

"I don't know if you know

But when we miss each other so

Look up

I'll meet you at the moon…"

She looked up, taking a swig. What was Vash doing right now?

Was he in some gun battle against overwhelming odds? Was he sleeping soundly, the war already won? Looking at the same sky, missing her as much as she missed him?

She finished the beer. Popped a couple more painkillers to make her aching, shaking body shut up. Went to bed.

The bed was too big without him. She got out her sleeping bag and lay down on the floor with a pillow.

The darkness closed in on her. Every sound, every shadow, was something bad coming for her. Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she turned on a light. Got the derringers Vash had given her and made sure they were loaded. Put them on either side of her.

Everything bothered her. Things weren't supposed to have gone the way they did tonight. She wasn't supposed to have been attacked. Wasn't supposed to be freaking out in the aftermath. Milly was supposed to have agreed Vash would be proud of her, not lectured her and put these questions in her head.

How could she stop trying to earn what mattered the most to her?

Meryl tossed and turned.

Finally, sleep came. When she imagined Vash's arms around her, telling her how proud he was of her and how much he loved her, sleep came.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Lyrics from "Meet You at the Moon", by Imelda May

Vash stood outside the bunkhouse he was staying the night in, leaning against a post, arms crossed. Couldn't sleep.

He had actually been sound asleep, when he was suddenly jerked awake. Arms straight out – felt like he was holding guns in his hands, even though nothing was there. Fingers pulled nonexistent triggers.

_What the hell?_

There was nothing there, but it had sure as hell felt like he was aiming and shooting at something.

He had not been able to go back to sleep. Kept trying to figure it out. If that was a dream, it was the strangest one he had ever had.

So now he was out here, looking at the sky. His shoulder burned from the gunshot he had received earlier that day. Nothing major – the bullet went right through, he patched it up himself – but it still hurt. He likely would have some more before this was over.

Things were supposed to be a bit easier than this. He had been promised backup, but the "backup" was a militia of rank amateurs, useless to him. He also wasn't supposed to be fighting an enemy with an actual leadership cadre. The lawyers had led him to believe the situation was similar to Kasted, when Lina had been taken. At best, they had withheld information he needed until it was too late to back out. No wonder Meryl despised lawyers.

There was no sheriffing to be done here, just combat. He had been played from the start. Wouldn't put it past the lawyers and town bosses to have figured out how badly he and Meryl needed the money before they even made the pitch. And if everything hadn't blown up with Meryl, he would have recognized that much money was too good to be true without a hook.

But he was here now. Suckered or not, they still needed the money. For Meryl – for the kind of life he wanted to be able to offer her – he would see this through and get paid.

What he needed for something like this was someone on the level of Wolfwood. What he had was himself. It wasn't impossible, just damn tough. But at least he was making progress.

Since he had arrived in town, he never slept in the same place twice. Always stayed on the move. Made extra sure to stay hidden and only engage on his terms. With no backup he could count on, he was essentially fighting a guerrilla war – shoot and run, try to find the leaders and disable them severely enough to be taken out of play. Rem was wrong in her belief that you absolutely _never_ were right to kill, but he would avoid killing where possible.

The bandits, for their part, had become aware they were under attack. And, given the precision with which their attacker was striking – every shot hit a bad guy in such a way as to take him out of the fight – they were figuring out who they were up against.

That was his ace card – the reputation of Vash the Stampede. With that in play, it shouldn't be much longer until their will was broken – a man who could hit a disabling shot could easily begin making kill shots any time he chose. Either he would be able to take out all the leaders, or the bandits they led would mutiny and flee. Meantime, he just had to stay aware and avoid contact except when he was ready. The key was to stay hidden.

When this was done, he would collect his pay and go home. Go sauntering through the door. Wave a stack of bills at Meryl. Show her he had fixed everything for her. She'd be so proud of him! He grinned as he thought about it.

He had been dumb enough to think when he married Meryl, they would somehow magically live happily ever after. Neither one of them had been ready for the strain of their new existence. But now that they had resolved to fight for each other, they were back on track. He could sense there were still things to work on; but hey, they would work on those things. They would make it so long as they held on to each other.

Somebody had a radio on. Poor noise discipline, but what could you expect? These people weren't soldiers or fighters, just citizens who wanted their town back. He had seen worse lapses in discipline from people who knew better.

"I don't know if you know

But when we miss each other so

Look up

I'll meet you at the moon…"

What was his Meryl doing right now? Did she know how much he missed her? Did she miss him that much?

He smiled again as he thought about her. Soon, he would be back where he belonged. Home, in her arms.

His ears pricked at the sudden absence of insect noise. The sound of weapons cocking carried. He threw himself down, a shot hitting the post where he had just been, a splinter flying into his neck. Shoulder screamed in protest as he pulled his six-gun and clocked in to earn his pay.

He didn't have time to wonder how they had known where he was.


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Two lawyers walked down the lamp-lit street, talking urgently and low.

"Is there any word of him?" one asked, slightly older. Dark brown hair, salt-and-pepper at the temples, receding at the hairline. A little paunch. Three-piece suit paid for with money from hands that cavalierly signed deals with lives in the balance.

"Not for the last five days. He is presumed dead," said the other one, slightly younger. Full head of hair the same shade. Still trim. Same suit, same hands.

"Presumed does not get us the bounty. We need the body!"

"And we'll have it! Just give it time and remember the plan – split the bounty with the outlaw chiefs, everyone goes their separate ways, we get the town back and make a profit."

"Of course I remember the plan – I came up with it!"

They turned into their office, opening and closing the door with the frosted-glass sign reading:

**DEWEY & DEWEY**

**ATTORNEYS AT LAW**

**WE PROUDLY SERVE DALEYGRAD**

The office was plush – thick carpet, hand-carved wooden desks, framed degrees on the wall next to weird decorations. The lawyers didn't know what the decorations were supposed to be, just that they were expensive.

They crossed to their desks, still deep in conversation.

"He did his job, cleaned out enough of them that we could take care of the rest if needed. And that man at the top, whatever his name was, Lance, Lasko –"

"Lansing," the younger one replied.

"Right, Lansing. Vash the Stampede took care of some of the young roosters itching for a try at the top spot. He should be grateful, but I'm beginning to think he has the body and will try to claim the bounty himself. We can't let that happen."

"Lansing," came a third voice. Both men jumped, whirling around at the speaker who was standing against the wall by the door. Neither one missed the big revolver trained on them. "Tall guy, shaved head, death's head tattoo on his forehead? He didn't make it."

The younger one feigned concern. "Vash! You're alive! Thank God, it's a –"

"Shut up." Vash was not in a good mood. The ambush at the bunkhouse had put a couple more holes in him, and he had acquired more in the days since. Even he could only take so much damage, and he was getting close to his limit. Twice he had been forced to operate on himself with materials at hand. Currently, a high level of pain was his constant companion, and the only thing keeping him going was a will to make it back to Meryl.

He had promised her when they were married – she would never again cry because he was gone.

Looked at the older one. "I'm curious. Are you actually working on behalf of the town, or free agents? Who would the bounty actually go to?

"Vash, you misunderstand –"

The revolver made a _ca-click_ sound as he cocked it. The elder Dewey shut his mouth.

"It doesn't matter," Vash told him. "I've broken the bandits. Their leaders are either incapacitated or dead. I've done your dirty work; I've even killed for this town when forced. The ones left, you can handle. I want my money."

"We can't –" both men started. Quieted as Vash shook his head.

"Bunkhouse was a bad choice. The worst of it was, good people died in that hit. And it _was_ you two. No one knew I was there but y'all. So you know what that means, right?"

Heads shook no.

"It means you're at the top. Whoever else pulled the trigger, you two tried to have me killed. You tried to make Meryl cry over me again, and that is just not acceptable. That, I'll pull the trigger for.

"Or you can pay me."

The look in his eyes and determined scowl on his face said he wasn't bluffing.

Fear for your life is a powerful motivator. The Deweys stopped lying and started scrambling to assemble his payment, which was hidden in various places around the office.

If all had gone right, they would have been able to claim they had already paid Vash and the money was gone, thus actually keeping it for themselves. Vash would have been killed by the bandit army – no one the wiser to the fact they had been tipped off by the two Deweys – his body claimed by the lawyers and turned over for the bounty money, which would be split with the bandit leaders. The bandits would have left the town in peace, allegedly broken in spirit by Vash the Stampede, fallen hero; and the lawyers would have privately gotten rich and retired in splendor.

They didn't count on the will of a man who promised he would come back.

When he left the office, the Dewey duo were sprawled on the floor, unconscious by the butt of his gun. He had a fat stack of files taken from their private cabinets that proved they skimmed from every deal they ever worked on behalf of the town. A portion of the stack would be left at the home of each member of the town council.

He also had his promised payment: half a billion double-dollars, pretty much everything the townspeople had been able to scrape together to hire the most dangerous man on the planet, leaving the town destitute. A cool five hundred million.

He took the night to do his good deeds, leaving the incriminating files. Then he left. He had taken care of enough bandits, including their leaders, that the local militia could finish the job. He had a promise to keep.

He was going home. With two hundred fifty million double-dollars. In addition to the files he left for the town council, he left money at people's houses until, all told, half the town's money had been returned to its citizens.

Just like him, they needed money for a fresh start.


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Events of this chapter and remaining chapters are owed to a couple of people beyond worthy of the title "friend". Thanks for reminding me what's most important to certain people. On a larger note, thanks for seeing whatever in me that made you step in way back. What is owed can't be repaid, but I'll never stop trying.

Meryl's bruises were beginning to fade. They had gone from dark purple to light purple. The doctor had bandaged her injured hand heavily to keep it immobilized. She could take off the wrap for showering and anything else where it could get wet, but really he wanted it on as much as possible and in that nice little zone where it was tight without being too tight. It was annoying, but at least nothing was broken.

One unexpected benefit came from her job. The night after the incident with Knives, she had reported in. The boss told her to go home.

"I missed last night; I can't miss tonight, too! I need the money, I have to work!"

"You'll scare everyone away looking like that," he insisted. As if looks mattered to the people they served, who saw life through alcohol lenses. A thomas would be pretty to them, if it was bringing a full bottle.

She was so adamant that, in the end, he offered her a hundred double-dollars for each shift she stayed home, until she was fully healed. Much better than what her tips usually came to. "Deal!"

Proof that it was good to be necessary, even if only because she was one of the few people in town willing to work there. It rubbed her the wrong way to be paid for not working, but it was preferable to being fired for not being pretty.

Meryl drank her tea at the kitchen counter, wishing it were something stronger. Flexed her injured hand, feeling the pain. No more painkillers, though. The hangover was horrible; and she didn't like the way they numbed her entire body, making her timing off. Didn't like the way they couldn't touch what was really wrong.

Just think of Vash. Somehow, the pain was less when she thought of him.

Good news was the post-trauma shakes were coming less and less. Time seemed to be taking care of the psychosomatic symptoms of her encounter with Knives, thank God. If only it would take care of the memories. She could still feel echoes of him in her head, and it made her nauseous every time. His intrusion was every bit as bad as the physical violation he had planned.

Speaking of which…Knives had to be tended to, but Milly was not back yet from checking on Nicole. She insisted Meryl no longer go down unaccompanied.

Part of Meryl ridiculed the thought that she wasn't allowed to go down there by herself. She had kicked Knives' ass once, and by God, she would do it again if she had to! She could damn well handle herself!

Part of her was very, very glad she didn't have to go down there alone.

All in all, it was probably a good thing he was disabled again. Going back to square one meant Vash would have more time to work with him. Meryl worried whether Vash would see it that way. Much as she insisted he would be proud of her, she had broken the rules and taken a dangerous chance. If she had not been armed, she probably would be dead. He would not be willing to overlook that.

A creak sounded as the front door opened. Finally, Milly was back! Now they could tend to His Royal Punkass and she could get on with her night. Another night passed would put her that much closer to Vash coming back to her.

"Meryl! I'm back! Surprise!"

A delighted gasp squeaked from her. _My broomhead!_ Joy overwhelmed self-recrimination.

"Come on, insurance girl! Don't make me beg for you!"

The kitchen door opened. Time slowed to a crawl. Her husband stood there, looking for his wife with a grin. Found her. Locked eyes with her. The grin faded.

Vash marched over to Meryl, deadly serious, never taking his eyes off her. "Who did it?"

Meryl put her hand on his cheek, smiling to show him everything was ok. "Vash, it's –"

He took her hand off. Snarled, "Was it _him_?"

"Vash, listen to me –"

He whirled around, starting for the basement door. Meryl grabbed his arm. "Vash, remember, you didn't spare his life just to kill him!"

He yanked his arm away. Spoke loud enough that he knew Knives would be able to hear it. "I won't kill him, but I'll be damned if he won't wish I had!"

Meryl halfway wouldn't mind that, except she had had all the Knives drama she could take. She wanted Vash's attention on her, not on beating the ever-loving shit out of his brother.

Ran in front of him, putting her hand up. "Vash, stop! I already took care of it, just like I said I would!"

"How?"

Stuck her chin out and pointed at herself. "I shot him! You can't do much worse than that."

He looked at her, taking everything in again. "I can try."

Meryl smacked his shoulder hard to get his attention. Wasn't expecting him to grunt and turn white.

"What did I do? Vash, what did I do to hurt you?' She was instantly under his arm and helping him into the living room to the couch.

"Nothing, I'm fine!" he protested as she forced him down. "I just got shot a few times, is all. I've had worse."

Meryl tore open his shirt to check for herself, sending buttons flying. There was a bandage on his shoulder, two over his stomach. Fresh, dry bandages. No bleeding.

"See?" he said, glad she couldn't see the others. "No worry. And I got paid." Grin. "See, I fixed it. Now we have money. I fixed it. For you."

Her eyes grew wet as the _for you_ registered.

"You idiot," she whispered. "You wonderful, magnificent idiot!" Threw herself on his good shoulder, hugging tight. "If you ever get shot for me again…"

"Meryl –" He felt hot tears on him, heard the quiet crying. His arms went around her. "It's ok. You don't take on that many guys without taking some hits. But it's nothing serious. Nothing I would ever let keep me from you."

She held tight. "Meryl, look at me. Come on, now, look at me. Meryl!'

Meryl slowly raised her head up, arms still around him. He brushed away her tears.

"It's fine, really. I did what I had to do to make it back to you, it's over. And I got the money." Half of it, anyway. He would explain later. Two hundred fifty mil was still enough to buy a new start.

"Now, what happened to you?"

His mouth set in a grim line as she told him everything.

She talked about shooting Knives. Something clicked in him. "Tell me that part again."

"He went for me. I pulled and shot him. Oh, Vash, I wish you were there to see it, you would have been so proud of me! I pulled and shot on pure instinct, and hit exactly where I needed to. I felt like I was as good as you, even with an injured hand."

Her husband beamed at her. "I_ am_ proud of you. You broke through his control."

Watched her preen under his praise. He left out that things shouldn't have gotten as far as they did. Now wasn't the time for it, but getting beaten up and forced to shoot was not what he considered being able to handle herself. They would discuss it later, just as he would "talk" with Knives later.

But part of him was putting pieces together. What she was describing fit what he felt the night he had been woken from sleep in the bunkhouse. Except that was impossible. There was no way she was able to sync with him like that.

Right?

He had her continue. Meryl left nothing out for him, not even the part about feeling so dirty afterward she just had to shower.

He looked in her eyes, staying locked. "Now the big question. Proud as I am of you, why did you feel you had to go through any of that?"

She tried to hold his gaze like Derringer Meryl would. But the façade crumbled and she was left with her lower lip quivering. Threw her arms around him.

"I had to do _something_ to earn you!"

Wounds or no wounds, Vash lifted her on his lap, cradling her there. "And you call me an idiot. What's this about earning me?"

Meryl clung to him, hands clasped firmly around his neck. "You go off and get shot and act like it's nothing. You back down bank robbers with just a finger in your pocket, then you just act all, 'Aw, shucks.' You single-handedly defeat Monev, then not only do you have it in you to spare his life, you go to bed!

"And what do I do? I stand back and watch. I go to work and pay the bills. It's been forever since I did anything to fight at your side. I have no scars. You, you have this mess of a body that tells how you've stood and fought, and the only thing you say about it is 'It's not something I like women to see.'

"Is it any wonder I want to measure up to you? Is it any wonder I need to earn your love and respect?"

Vash groaned in frustration. "I thought this was something we worked out."

"We worked out that we're going to fight for each other," she insisted. "That we love each other. But why can't you understand? You're so worth having; and anything worth having, I have to earn. It's been like that my whole life, can't you see?'

He turned her to look in her eyes again. It was important she see – not just hear, but actually _see_ – how truthful his words were.

"You don't have to earn anything from me, Meryl."

"I do!" she insisted. Pointed at herself. "That's part of who I am; I earn everything! Why can't you see that, Vash?

"My family wasn't rich or connected. Even as a child, I had to work to help pay for school. I _earned_ my education. Other people got poor grades and still got good jobs because of who their parents were, but I worked hard and got top grades and I earned my way into Bernardelli, and I took the most dangerous jobs and worked my way up. I earned it; I earned everything I ever had!

Tears came again as she made her confession to him. "And then you came along and you changed everything, and I never looked back. But I don't have it in me to just let you do everything while I do nothing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and everything good has to be earned. I don't deserve you until I've fully earned you, that's how life works! I'm not worth anything if I don't earn you!"

Vash tapped her on the nose to shut her up. "You're worth everything, you crazy woman. You _are_ everything! Why can't _you_ see?"

"Because I'm not good enough for you! I thought I was, but I'm not. You do all these incredibly brave things; one bad thing with Knives and I'm running off to the shower to try to scrub it away. How can you be proud of –"

He cut her off with a kiss, pulling her close and holding tight. His gunshots burned more than they had in days, but damn it, if he couldn't knock some sense into her, he'd settle for kissing it in.

Meryl fought him. Whacked his good shoulder. But he held her tight, mouth on hers; eventually, she relaxed and let herself enjoy it.

When he felt she was ready to hear him out, he broke it off. S-L-O-W-L-Y, teasing away from her.

"You're right on one thing. I said women would run away from my scars, the first time you ever saw them. What did you say?"

She hesitated.

"Meryl. What did you say?"

So quietly anyone else might not have heard it: "I wouldn't run away."

Vash brushed back a stray lock of her hair.. "And you never did. In fact, you saved me. You stood up to those people with nothing but your faith in me, and how many have it in them to do that? Then you showed me how to move past what I thought was unforgivable. _You_ showed me.

"You never have to earn my love, my brave insurance girl. You already did that when you brought me back. Everything you feel you have to earn from me, you've already earned.

"You're worth everything, and you've already proven it. You never have to do so again. And I'm proud every time I look at you. I see you and think, 'There is Meryl Stryfe. She's the only one of her there is, and everybody on the planet better be jealous, because she is _mine_.'"

Her hand was on his heart, eyes earnest. "Please – please mean it. All of it. Say you mean it, and I'll believe you always."

Covered her hand with his. "I don't lie to you. I swear, anything you feel you ever need to earn from me or prove to me – you've already done it, you wild, beautiful thing."

Her eyes dropped. "I'm not beautiful."

Touched her chin, turning her head from side to side. "You look beautiful to me. You're using the wrong mirror. Looking through the wrong eyes. Quit it."

"No, Vash, really –"

"Shut up, you beautiful fool."

He pulled her in again, and this time she didn't fight it. Everything went away in his kiss, in his arms around her.

Here was something that was all hers, something she didn't have to fight for every day. Something not given based on some performance evaluation or report card. She didn't have to prove herself to have him. He said so. All she had to do was hang on to him and never let go.

There came a point where they reached an unspoken mutual agreement that lost time had been made up for. Broke apart, each with flushed skin and twinkling eyes.

"I guess you missed me," Meryl said with a smile.

"Did you miss me?"

"More than you'll ever know."

_Flew for her, teeth bared like he intended to rip her throat out._

"Meryl, you're trembling. What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," she told him. "Just post-trauma. It's better than it was." She looked at him. Confessed, "I know I didn't make smart choices. You trusted me, and I was so eager to prove myself – to you, but to me, too – that I rushed things and did what I shouldn't have."

Vash nodded gravely. "At least you know. But we'll talk about it later. I just want to be with you right now."

He ran a hand through her hair. How could she ever think she wasn't beautiful? Injuries or no, he would pick her every time. Even put her in the dictionary.

_Beau·ti·ful__; adjective; see entry "Meryl Stryfe"._

She was still bothered. "What will you do with…your brother?"

Shrug. "Start over, I guess. If he's that bad off, we start back at square one. Take care of him. Try to get through to him. Lead by example."

"Can I help you?"

His eyes went over her bruises again. The injured hand. What to say? He wanted to say hell no, to carry her far, far away where nothing could ever hurt her again. He wanted to say yes, because he was delighted that she would even be willing to offer, after everything she had gone through.

"You don't have to. You have nothing to prove."

Meryl smiled slightly. "I know. You said so. But I want to. I want him to see he can't get to you through me."

"You can help. Promise me, though – never alone. Let me be with you."

Before she could answer, Knives' image flashed in her head again. She felt the remnants of his power. Felt what he had planned to do to her. Felt herself want it despite that she didn't want it.

The loss of control flooded through her. She could hear his mocking laughter in her head. Started shaking again. Small at first. Progressively worse, until she was like a small earthquake.

"Get out," she whispered. "Get out of my head and give me back my control!"

"_Meryl!"_Vash's hands were tight on her shoulders, trying in vain to snap her out of it.

Silent tears became wracked sobs.

Why had he done it? Couldn't he have just beaten her and been done with it? Why did he have to invade her mind? Why did he have to try to control her like that, to plant this seed that was still there?

"Give me back my control," she pleaded with the feelings he had put in her. "I can't be me without it, just give it back!"

"_MERYL!"_

Vash was calling her. From deep within herself, she heard him. Struggled to the surface.

"Hold me," she gasped. "Please make this go away."

Protective arms enveloped her. Held her tight.

He spoke softly in her ear, giving her a lifeline in his voice. "I love you, Meryl. Love you so much. Always will. _My_ Meryl, always. No one else's. Mine."

Then he felt it happen. The same thing he had felt in the bunkhouse, like something was being….not taken from him, but borrowed.

And he felt everything she did. The forced lust, the loathing, the fear, the despair that came with loss of control over herself. Felt it all, and how it was tearing her apart.

His insurance girl wasn't broken, but she was getting there.

But Meryl felt Vash's strength coming in, felt the turmoil in her being banished by him. Her tremors steadied, then ceased altogether. Heart rate slowed. Quiet relaxation came, and she laid her head on his chest, letting herself be cloaked in his presence. She was safe in his arms.

"I feel better when I'm with you," she murmured, like someone waking from a bad dream. "You make me better."

Vash realized it _was_ her. Meryl was somehow – _how?_ – able to borrow something from him. Energy, essence, whatever, she was able to take a little bit of it and use it for herself.

Well, shitfire'n'tarnation. This was new.


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Vash let a minute pass to make sure Meryl really was ok. She stayed like she was, head resting on him, safe from the storm Knives had caused in her. Safe, and happy to be so. Once he was sure nothing else would happen, he spoke.

"Meryl – just now, when you asked me to make it go away – did you feel anything?"

Happy look faded into something...not happy. Troubled. She didn't like thinking about just a couple minutes ago.

He tilted her head up. "He can't hurt you. _Nothing_ can hurt you now. I won't let it. But I need to know. I need you to tell me."

Her hands took his, making sure she kept contact with him. Stayed locked on his eyes. Took a deep breath. _For Vash…_

"It wasn't me. There was something inside me that wasn't ne, forcing me to feel things I didn't want to feel. I didn't have any control over myself…"

Meryl started to look away in shame. Vash squeezed her hands, letting her know he was still with her. "Hey."

Eyes came back on his.

"You did nothing wrong. _He_ –" _Motherfuckinggoddamnfuckingratbastardshitbird_ and a hundred other strung-together descriptive swears flew through his mind in the blink of an eye. "– is responsible. You blame nobody but him."

"I _need_ my control," she whispered.

He broke the hand-lock and put his arms around her again, holding close. His body kept threatening to go on strike, but his mind told it to shut up and do its job. Meryl was more important.

"I know you do. I know how much it matters to you, and I get it. Believe me, I get what it's like to not have any control over yourself." Also because of Knives.

"But you've got it back. Feel it. You're in charge. He put that in you, and you _still_ dropped him. That's how in charge you are. Nobody breaks my Meryl."

_Nobody breaks my Meryl._ Damn right – she could do this!

"It had control and wouldn't give it back and then you held me and it went away and I just felt really calm and safe it was like when I shot him it felt like you were right there with me and that's what it felt like just now like you were a part of me and fought it away and I just felt safe like you were all around me and nothing could ever get to me that way again that's what it felt like."

The words all came out in a rush, quickly so she wouldn't have to think about it. But she got them out, and he caught every one. Kissed her gently. "Knew you could do it."

Meryl made a thoughtful noise. "What does it mean?"

Vash made his own thoughtful noise. "I have no idea."

"But you've been around over a century!" she protested. "Hasn't something like this ever happened before?"

He smiled and gave her ear a little tug. "Honey, _we've_ never happened before. Far as I know, there have only ever been three humanoid plants. Tessla died –"

"Tessla?"

Vash's face darkened for just a moment. "She was the first of us. I don't want to talk about it.

"Her. Knives has no interest in humans beyond feeding the sand worms. And I've been too busy hunting him to ever have time for anyone. Add to that, humans don't get high levels of exposure to plants because of the bulbs. That means you and I are the first ever long-term plant-human interaction. We're in completely uncharted territory, so I have no idea what this actually means. Just what it is – for whatever reason, you're able to take from me whatever you might need – so far, we've seen gun handling, marksmanship, and inner control. And it seems to be not something you do consciously."

"_Can_ I do it consciously?" she wondered.

Shrug. "Not a clue. I don't even know if it works both ways. Could I take from you? I wouldn't mind being the bossy one."

"Bossy?! You think I'm bossy? You really want this couch to be your bed tonight, don't you?"

Vash laughed. "That's more like my Meryl."

"Tch." She feigned annoyance, knowing she wasn't fooling him. No way would he be out of her sight come bedtime, nor she his; she was as concerned over his injuries as he was hers, and they needed to spend a night holding each other after being apart so long.

Didn't let herself think about what it would be natural for him to want besides holding.

"I'm not very science-minded," he went on. "I can't even begin to figure out how this works, only that it's something unprecedented. But I'll tell you who would be able to help."

"Who?"

"He's got a scientific mind, and he's done a ton of research on plant energy and power."

Meryl poked the good side of his chest. "Tell me who it is already!"

Cleared his throat, hating to say the name he knew would upset Meryl. "Knives."'

She stiffened, causing his arms to tighten around her again to get her to relax.

"No."

As not-fond of his brother as he was, Vash did see his worth. If Knives ever came around, he could be a great scientist for humanity, could even help make Gunsmoke – well, green was probably pushing it. Mottled, maybe. He could help make things better.

And he _had_ done more research and knew more about plant natures than Vash. With his help, they might be able to figure out exactly what was happening. Determine its potential, limitations, and risks. Without his help, they were shooting in the dark.

He felt compelled to defend the practicality, since Meryl was always harping on him to be practical. "Of the two of us, he _is_ the scientific one. He's got a better shot of figuring out what we're dealing with."

She pointed out, "Of the two of you, he _is_ the one who wants to kill all of humanity and tried to – tried to – damn it, have you forgotten?"

Meryl hated that she couldn't put it into words. Hated that she couldn't say his name right now. Hated that she was secretly afraid to go back down there again without backup. Hated that her boasts of never being afraid of Knives had been proven wrong, even if she didn't admit it to anyone but herself.

Hated what she would have to tell Vash before they went to bed.

His scowl would make a pregnant woman give birth out of fright. "I haven't forgotten it for a second of looking at you. I fully intend to discuss the subject with him.

"But he could help."

Meryl shook her head. "At best, he doesn't like you. He certainly hates me by this point. And I don't feel comfortable having him know about this. Everything he learns, he tries to use against us. I don't want him involved."

Vash blew out a frustrated breath of air, hard enough that if ruffled Meryl's hair like a small breeze. She felt it and responded in kind, making his hair sway like tall grass.

He blew again. She blew again. They kept messing with each other like that until the tension was gone.

Meryl slid off his lap and curled up next to him. Vash's body silently screamed its thanks at her and cursed its owner.

He played with her hair, twirling strands of it. "So we have a sync with no real idea of what it is, how it works, or how it happened – although thinking about it, it could be a result of Knives messing inside your head. Or that may just have been the trigger for something that was already there. Who knows? And our best bet for researching it is a nix. Sound about right?"

Meryl cuddled closer. "We'll figure it out. We're smart enough together. And I'm just glad to know it's there, anyway."

"Oh? You don't want to know more? Be able to rely on it, control it?"

"I do. But right now, I just want to enjoy having you back. And enjoy having half a billion double-dollars."

Vash cleared his throat. "About that – we actually have a quarter billion."

She looked up at him. "What happened?"

He gave her the short version of events – fought the army of bandits, got double-crossed, got even, gave some of the money back to the broke town.

Meryl snorted when he finished. "Never trust lawyers."

Her husband chuckled. "Some people say the same of insurance agents."

"Nonsense! Insurance is a noble profession. The law, on the other hand, is very imperfect. Nobody ever has to practice insurance, but lawyers are always practicing the law. Insurance is clearly better."

Now his laugh was loud and clear. "Still my insurance girl."

Her hands went through his hair. "Still my broomhead."

She swore his eyes sparkled, looking into hers. "The whole time, I dreamed every night of being back with you," he said. "Not quite like this, but – damn it, Meryl Stryfe, anything with you is better than everything else."

Meryl thought of a house too empty. A bed too empty. A life too empty. "I don't feel right without you."

Vash kept her close, resting his head against hers. "Good thing I'm back, then. Now you can feel right. Starting tonight."

He had to know, before this went too far and she hurt him. Meryl took a deep breath, bracing herself.

"I need to tell you something."

The sparkle in his eyes became a sparkle of excitement. "Wait! Is it something important?"

Her face was neutral. "Yes."

"This is a great chance for an experiment, then."

Arched an eyebrow. "Experiment?"

Nod nod nod. "For the sync thing. I felt what you were feeling, or at least some of it. So you can take from me, but I can pick up on some of what's happening. Let's try to see how far that goes. You did want to work on this on our own."

"Well…ok. What should I do?"

He took her hands. "Just feel the emotion of what you want to say. Like before. We'll see what happens."

Meryl wasn't really sure how to do that; but hey, they both were making it up as they went along. If they weren't going to ask Knives for help – which they absolutely were not! – then she should at least try.

Closed her eyes and tried to feel, rather than think, what she had to tell Vash.

For his part, Vash tried to empty his mind and focus solely on Meryl. He had absolutely no clue how to go about any of this, but thought it a good idea to try to match his heartbeat to Meryl's. Tried to match her breathing. Relaxed his body and just focused on matching Meryl.

Picked up on something…what was it? A jumble of feelings, fear and trepidation at the top.

Then he was hit full-force with the image in her head.

"_Stop. Vash, please stop! I can't do this!"_

_Vash looked in Meryl's eyes. "What?"_

_Her jaw trembled. "I can't, I just can't! I'm sorry, but I'm not ready yet. I want to, really…but I keep flashing back to Knives."_

_Eyes darkened. "You think that? You honestly think I'd come anywhere close to hurting you like that? You think I'm _anything_ like him?" _

_Pushed off her, standing up and walking out. "I'm taking the couch tonight."_

"_Wait! It's not you, I just –" He slammed the door._

_Meryl fell into her pillow, muffling her frustrated scream as her fist punched the headboard. She _wanted_ to give Vash what he desired, but everything was so tumultuous inside her that she just couldn't do it. And now he had walked out on her._

_They had been through so much recently. How much more could they take before she lost him for good?_

Vash pulled Meryl completely into his arms, holding her against him and rocking her gently.

"You're not ready."

Her voice was soft against him. "You felt it?"

"Yeah. I got…something. A thought, an image, whatever. What matters is it worked. So we have something to start with.

"What matters even more is you don't have to worry. I won't push you, and I won't walk out on you. In any way, shape, or form."

Meryl looked up to meet his eyes, trying to explain. "I want to – I've missed you so much, and I really do want to, and I want to give you everything you should have, but every time I think about it I think about –"

He placed a finger over her mouth, shushing her. "What did I say? Anything with you is better than everything else. It's not about the sex, it's about _you_. If the rest of our time together was nothing but holding hands, I'd take it.

"You don't have to give me everything, insurance girl. You already _are_ everything. That's why I took that fucked-up lousy job. Well, yeah, to keep everyone safe, sure. but – not to knock honest work, but you work in a bar, and that's not you. You left a whole life you'd built to be with me. In return, I haven't done anything, and that's never set right with me. This money doesn't just buy us new covers; it buys you what I've wanted to give you since you said 'I do' – a better life."

Meryl felt the truth in his words wash over her. She fought to hold back her tears as realization dawned that he saw her in the same way she saw him.

_I'll be damned – Milly was right the whole time!_

Then something else came over her. What was this sudden sense of regret? Why did it feel different from everything else coming at her?

Then it slammed into her so hard she almost got a headache.

"You think we got married too soon?" Incredulous that he would think that.

Vash was caught off guard by her question. Then understanding showed. "Clearly, this thing is going to have its bad points."

Meryl didn't say anything. Just waited for her answer. At this point, after so many ups and downs in one night, she wasn't sure she _could_ say anything.

_Things were so clear when he asked her. Just back from his fight with Knives, carrying his unconscious brother over his shoulder. Left Knives with the town doctor. Skipped his own treatment. Skipped water. Beelined straight for Meryl._

_He looked like he'd just climbed straight out of hell. Covered in grit and dried sweat. Pale from dehydration. Hair hanging limp. Kept standing by sheer force of will that mandated he see her before anything else._

_The most wonderful sight Meryl had ever seen. Because he came back._

"_You don't risk your heart," he rasped. "You risk your life, but never your heart. But if you say yes – I promise you, take this chance and you'll never regret it. Marry me."_

_The last word he heard before passing out was, "Yes."_

And now he thought they had gotten married too soon?

"Not too soon," he clarified. "But I shouldn't have asked so suddenly. I don't think either one of us was ready for how hard this would actually be."

Meryl breathed a sigh of relief. "That's all? You're surprised just because life is tough?"

Shook his head. "Not life, honey. _Our_ life. I asked you without ever thinking about what marriage would actually mean. We never stopped to talk about what we would do or how we would live. Look at everything that's come of it."

"Our life together has come of it."

"A life you shouldn't have!" he exploded. "You shouldn't have to work in a goddamn _dive_ just to try to keep up with the bills. You shouldn't have to have a husband who can't carry his weight because he has to watch over a brother whose main goal in life is a successful campaign of genocide. You shouldn't have to live this pathetic existence because you said yes!"

His guilt came over her. Guilt over asking her in the first place. Guilt over dragging her into his mess of a life. Guilt over asking her to be with him while he tried to save Knives. Guilt over…

She touched his cheek. "It's not your fault, darling. You said it yourself – _he_ is responsible. Blame nobody but him."

Now it was Meryl who took Vash in her arms, supporting his weight. Meryl who held his head to her chest and rocked him gently. Made soft cooing sounds in his ear to calm him down. Felt him drawing upon her the same way she had him.

Well, that answered the question of whether it worked both ways.

"So many things we should have done differently," he murmured. "_I_ should have done differently. So many things I didn't see coming."

"You kept your promise," she whispered in his ear.

He raised his head to look at her. "What?"

"You kept your promise. I don't regret anything we've gone through."

"But –"

"Shush, silly broomhead." Tapped his nose. "There are many things to work on, yes. We probably should have stopped and thought it through. But we'll work through everything. Hang on to each other and don't let go, remember? And how could I have any regrets when nothing matters as long as we have each other?"

She may not have been ready for sex, but she was more than ready for his kiss, soft and tender and sweet. This sync thing was unpredictable, but right how she enjoyed the pleasant emotions that went back and forth between them.

"You're right," he said when they finished. "So right. So much to work on, but thank you for reminding me we'll make it if we just fight for each other. I needed that."

Meryl grinned. "What you need is me. Just like I need you."

"True. I also think I need you in my arms the whole night."

She had just settled back into his embrace when it hit her. "The whole night! Shit! Milly should have been back by now!" Started to push herself up. "What if she hurt herself or something? She could be out there just waiting for help to come. Shit shit shit!"

Nearly fell over in surprise when Milly came out of the kitchen with a container of pudding. "What are you upset about, Meryl?"

"How did you get in here already?" Meryl demanded, trying to summon anger to cover the fright she had felt at the thought of Milly hurt and alone someplace. To cover the relief she felt that made her want to run and squeeze Milly. "We were sitting right here the whole time!"

"I came back a while ago," Milly said. "You two were halfway to home base. The house could have blown up and you wouldn't have noticed."

Meryl blushed furiously and tried to think of a suitable comeback. "We have to go take care of the bastard," she said lamely.

"I already fed him," Milly informed her between bites of pudding. "He was pretty rude, so I said he could wait for a bath until tomorrow and sprayed him with some air freshener. I hope Nicole doesn't behave as rudely as him when she gets older. I'd hate to have to ground her."

"You took care of him? By yourself?"

Milly nodded. "I wanted to have you help me, but I also didn't want to mess up your reunion with Mr. Vash. So I just made up my mind to do it myself. It's easier than before, him being shot and all."

Shame flooded Meryl. She had let go of her bravado from earlier in the night, admitting to herself that she didn't want to face Knives alone. And here, Milly had just made up her mind and done it. Not a scratch on her.

Vash rose and came over. Put his arm around Meryl and squeezed a little, letting her know it was ok. She didn't know if the sync was still going or if his gesture made a world of difference, but she felt better.

Oblivious to the subtleties, Milly came and hugged both of them. "Welcome back, Mr. Vash! Does you being back mean Nicole can come home tomorrow?"

He grinned. "Sure! I"ve been missing her as much as I have the two of you."

"Hooray! I'll start getting her room ready again." Milly ran upstairs.

Vash turned to Meryl. "It _is _getting late. You want to table this and start getting ready for bed?"

Meryl nodded. "I think so; it's been a _very_ long night. There's a lot to sleep on. Are you coming, or do you want a snack first?"

Gestured at the shirt she had ruined in her haste to check his wounds. "Actually, I'm going to get a fresh shirt and a couple other things.

"Then I'm going to go sort some things out with my brother."


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

The woman, Thompson, had fed Knives. He had barely tasted the food, even though he willingly wolfed it down. He knew he needed food to heal. It was important he heal as quickly as possible; the sooner he did so, the sooner he would be able to continue the war.

She had asked if he was ready for his bath. He had snarled at her to go the fuck away. He had been fed, he didn't need anything else.

"You don't have to be so rude!" she had scolded. "If you don't want a bath, you could have just said so. But I won't allow you to stink up the place!" Sprayed him with some sort of artificially scented spray that claimed to make him smell like lavender. How did she know he hated the smell of lavender? She could at least have chosen vanilla.

Now he was in the darkness. Supposed Vash would not be down. Earlier in the night, he had heard Vash's voice proclaim, "I won't kill him, but I'll be damned if he won't wish I had!"

He had waited for the confrontation. But it seemed it was not coming. A pity; he wanted to know how much he had damaged the Stryfe woman. Relished the thought of how broken she must be. So what if his plan had failed in its execution – and he _still _wanted to know how she had broken his control over her – he had still hurt her. Just not to the extent he had intended.

Part of him raged that the short bitch had been able to wound him in almost exactly the same manner as Vash. Bad enough that his own brother had done it, but for a mere human to insult his divinity in this way!

She would yet be sacrificed in this war! He would make damned sure of it!

But he controlled the rage. Rolled it into a little ball deep inside and burned a little bit of it at a time to fuel his patience. Patience was what he needed, while his body healed. It had been easier on him healing from July; longer, but he hadn't been conscious like he was for this.

Odin had hung on the world tree for nine days and nights. He was not given the advantage of food and drink that Knives had. If the God of Asgard could survive his ordeal, then the God of Gunsmoke would make sure to survive his.

The basement door opened, letting light in. Now what did the Thompson woman want?

Footsteps came down. Light lit the basement.

"Howdy, brother."

So Vash had come for his confrontation, after all.

"Don't call me brother," Knives ground out. "You forfeit that title, just as you forfeit your claim to being a superior being."

"Happily so on the last part," Vash said. "Because we're _not_ superior. But we'll always be brothers, whether you like it or not. Why do you think you're still alive?"

Knives glared. "Because you're weak."

Vash was carrying a folding chair. Set it next to Knives and sat down. Grinned. "But Meryl's not."

"Ah, yes. The short one. Tell me, just how broken is she? She was not looking well after our last meeting."

Vash let the grin turn into a smirk, careful not to let what he felt inside show. "She's a lot better than you think. Turns out you can't even bend her spirit. She's volunteered to pitch in for our little therapy sessions."

_You lie!_ Knives snarled inside. Stayed cool outside. Knight to E7. "Has she now? Good; I look forward to seeing her again. I believe I felt a connection in our encounter."

Something flashed in Vash's eyes. Good. Knight takes pawn, D5.

"That something you felt was four forty-one caliber bullets, I think," Vash told him. "And I'd greatly appreciate it if you would leave Meryl alone from now on."

"You and I no longer speak the same language," Knives informed his brother. "You've crossed over to _their_ side, and cemented your allegiance when you took away my Angel Arm. You declared war, and since you took away what was mine, it's only fair I take what is yours. Your woman will either be mine, or she will die. Either way, I won't stop."

Vash felt the anger rising in him. "You declared war first. You murdered scores of people who had never done anything to harm you. _Rem_ never did anything to harm you."

"She was the same as the rest of them!" Knives blasted at him. "All of them, so proud, so ready to kill in the name of science. They killed Tessla, and she helped them!"

Vash snorted derisively. "You can't even say her name, can you? Admit it, you can't."

"_I hate that bitch and I'm glad she's dead!"_ Knives snarled.

"She she she. You hide behind hate, you hide behind your self-righteousness, but deep down in a place you don't acknowledge, you're sorry you killed Rem."

"_I hate her!" _

"You don't," Vash corrected. "She raised us. Taught us. I know you were jealous I got so much time with her, but she would have spent just as much with you if you had asked. Rem loved us the same, Knives. Loved you as much as she did me. And I know you love her as much as I do. That's why I didn't kill you; you have that love inside, no matter how much you try to bury it. It's not weakness to save someone who's worth saving."

"Don't talk about loving Rem," Knives snapped. "You clung to her precious beliefs for so long, but in the end you failed. You took a life! And you've taken more since then!

"And once you broke her rules, she went away, didn't she? You couldn't hear her anymore. So you found a replacement."

Vash shook his head slowly. "I had to let go of Rem's words, true. In the long run, it's impossible to avoid all killing, you're right about that. Sometimes, you find yourself in an impossible situation and have to make an impossible choice. I was forced to choose between the sin of killing and the sin of letting people die. I was a sinner, either way.

"But I let go of her words, not Rem herself. She's right here." Tapped over his heart. "And I didn't find a replacement. I found Meryl. You know where she was? Right in front of me. Just like I'm right in front of you. Someday, brother, you'll realize that. You'll realize that sinners can be saved."

"Listen to you!" Knives spat. "A weakling trying to cover his own weakness. Defending other weaklings. 'Sinners can be saved'," he mocked. "As if it's a sin to do what has to be done. Is it a sin to kill for food? Is it a sin to kill to live? No, it is the course of nature. Just as it is the course of nature for the strong to dominate the weak. Just as it is the course of nature to try to wipe out a plague. Humans have done it for centuries, so don't snivel to me when they're the plague and I am the cure."

Vash sighed, hating the way this was going. He had not meant to be drawn in like this. Only wanted to issue the warning to leave Meryl alone. And it looked like Knives was going to be unreasonable about that, too.

"Here we are again," he said. "We always wind up with me here and you there. And no doubt you see it as you here and me there. No use arguing it over again tonight.

"But you know, Knives – I really do think this all boils down to Rem. All you had to do was ask her for some solo time, but you never did. You just kept feeding that jealousy until it turned to hate. I don't really think your war with me is about anything so grandiose as divinity or war between species or higher callings. In the end, I think you hate me just because I got so much of Rem. And it saddens me, because it didn't have to be this way. All you had to do was just ask."

"Shut up, you broomheaded fucknozzle!" If Knives could have struck, he most certainly would have.

The hesitancy Vash had been feeling dissipated at Knives' use of "broomheaded". He thought of Meryl upstairs, and everything they had talked about that night. The memory of feeling what Knives had put into Meryl left him with a cold resolve to do whatever necessary to protect _his_ Meryl.

He began pulling on the gloves he had brought with him, tugging firmly to make sure they fit right. His expression was a fierce scowl.

"I'm going to do this one more time," he warned. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you – leave Meryl alone from now on. Remember Newton's Third Law of Motion."

Knives had a scowl to equal Vash's. "Don't try to be clever by invoking Newton. 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction' applies to interactions of forces working at the atomic and molecular level, building to the complexity of interaction between physical objects. It was never meant to be used as a justification of 'I only did it because you did it first!' Once again, you human-loving simpleton, we are not speaking the same language."

"I know. However much I wish you did, you don't understand what I'm telling you. I can only show you."

_Meryl severely bruised all over. Meryl shuddering in his arms. Meryl nearly breaking because her control was taken away. _

_Meryl hurt because Knives had hurt her._

The gloves Vash had put on each had six ounces of powdered metal sewn into the knuckles. They made muted, thudding sounds that, along with Knives' grunts as they impacted, would never be heard outside the basement where Vash delivered his message. Delivered an object lesson in the consequences of hurting Meryl in a language that Knives _could_ understand.


End file.
